


Blind Date

by 001010



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blind Character, Blind Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/001010/pseuds/001010
Summary: Lance is a not-quite-typical college student. At a young age, he inherited Stargardt's Disease, a genetic disorder that causes blindness.At his coffee shop job, he meets another not-quite-typical college student: Keith.Or, Lance is legally blind and navigates by touch, but Keith's PTSD keeps him away from physical contact.EDIT (1/11): Still trying to work on it !
Relationships: Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Blind Date

**Author's Note:**

> I tried by best to research the two conditions depicted, but there may be some inaccuracies. Sorry in advance (:

It was the seventh hour of Lance's shift, and a majority of his energy had been drained. Towards the end of the day at the Five Lions Cafe, it got slow. Painfully slow. Rolo had called in sick... again. Leaving him to pick up his shift. The smell of coffee was getting old, leaving him forever smelling like a walking coffee bean; if this continued, _he'd_ be the sick one. He slumped against the front counter, wondering why he agreed to this, as a heavy rain belted against the roof. It reminded him of his home back in Cuba, and the constant summer rainstorms. He started slipping to a daydream of his hometown, when he heard the bell connected to the door of the shop jingle. He quickly jumped up, reaching for the rag conveniently placed on the counter in front of him, and pretended to wipe the surface clean. A cold draft blew into the room, and Lance could hear the rain and smell the wet pavement more clearly.

Lance's eyes darted around the room in front of him, in an instinctual attempt to focus in front of him. Like always, only his peripheral was visible, a dark spot taking up a huge portion of his vision.

"Welcome in, what can I do ya for?" Lance asked, energy quickly returning to him greet enthusiastically. 

"It's just me, Lance," Pidge's voice came. Lance's posture quickly disintegrated into a slouch again. He could hear her teeth chattering and shoes squeaking as she trudged up to the counter. She slammed her reusable thermos on the counter. The shop had a new policy in place to help out the environment: 'Dine in' and use one of the tacky, eclectic mugs the shop had collected over the years, or bring your own thermos to be filled, eliminating single-use plastic cups. "Gimme the usual," Pidge sighed, passing Lance three crumpled up one dollar bills and seventy-four cents exactly. She came for the same cup everytime.

Lance chuckled as he grabbed the money, putting it exactly where it should go in the register, before he grabbed her thermos and turned to the machines. "It's, like, six. You're going to be up all night." 

She ignored him in favor of going off an a tangent, like she always did, about some science thing. Lance barely understood what it was she was talking about, but nodded and "Mhm"-ed when he felt necessary. His moves were fluid as he worked around the counters, already knowing exactly where everything was and how far apart they were. He could see Pidge, barely, in the corner of his vision. She resembled a wet rat, soaked hair sticking to her head and glasses continuously slipping off her nose. 

Finally, he turned around and reached to ring the service bell on the counter. He missed the first time, then reached a little farther and smacked the bell. "One death-wish coffee for Ms. Holt," he interrupted her, sliding her thermos back to her. 

"Thanks, Lance. I'll catch you later, yeah?" she said. Lance could practically hear the grin in her voice; making someone smile was a talent of his that he thoroughly enjoyed. He listened to her footsteps seceding, and then heard her acknowledging another person at the door.

"Welcome!" Lance greeted. He heard the door shut, and then silence fell upon the room.

For a moment, he thought he imagined the second person, but then someone clear their throat directly in front of the counter. 

Lance jumped a little too dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. "Jesus, you scared me! What are you, some kind of ninja?"

The mystery person didn't answer, instead giving his order. "Just a black coffee. To-go." A man, Lance concluded, from the low gravely voice. A young man.

"You got a bottle for that?" Lance asked.

"What?"

Lance gestured to the sign beside him, hoping it was where he remembered it being. "We're, like, trying to save the Earth, you know? We only use reusable containers."

The man hesitated. "No, I... didn't bring one."

"That's fine! You just get to use one of our mugs and dine in." Lance reached under the counter and grabbed three of the mugs stored on the shelf there, sitting strategically so Lance knew which was which. "Take your pick. I think one of these is heat sensitive and changes colors with the coffee. Or so I'm told." 

"Um. The cat one." 

"You've got to point it out for me, babe, I can't see for shit," Lance said with a grin. He alternated between pet-names for customers in the hopes of making them smile.

If the man was smiling, Lance couldn't tell. He pushed one of the mugs towards Lance, who took it and started preparing the drink. He tried to start up a friendly conversation.

"The name's Lance, but I'm sure you could read my nametag."

"Keith..." came the man's response. He sounded almost... nervous. 

"Okay, Keith. You go to the Garrison?"

Lance could see Keith nod in his periphery, but then scramble to respond after remembering what Lance had said earlier. "Y-yes, I do."

Lance suppressed a laugh at Keith's behavior. "Yeah? What do you study?"

"Atmospheric sciences." The reply was short and sweet. Dry. But, Lance could work with that.

"Elaborate on that a little? I have no clue what that is."

Despite the man's socially awkward nature, Lance felt... enticed by this stranger.

"It's, like... the study of the gases and clouds and stuff that surround planets. It sounds kind of boring, but... I find it pretty interesting. Hence, why I'm studying it," Keith answered. He sounded more dynamic talking about the things he liked. 

Lance smiled. He could definitely work with that.

He passed Keith his drink after it was finished, and leaned over the counter to talk to him. "How do you even get into such specific sciences like that? I didn't even know that... atmosphere-ology was a thing." 

Keith didn't seem to catch onto the joke. Lance felt concerned when the man didn't respond for a bit, but heard him sipping at the coffee. "That's... not what it's called. If you were to classify it with an '-ology,' you couldn't, because it's made of a variety of different fields. Like, climatology, dynamic meteorology, aeronomy... just to name a few. And I got into it because of..." he hesitated for a moment, as if trying to find the right word, "a friend of mine."

"'Friend?' They must have a very heavy impact on your life," Lance commented, trying to keep the conversation going. A 'friend'... could he mean girlfriend? Boyfriend, even?

"Well, yeah, he's... like a brother to me. He-" Keith cut himself off suddenly. His demeanor suddenly changed, going back to his original closed-off self. "He's a good friend."

A beat of silence fell upon them, and for a moment Lance was afraid Keith would leave. But he didn't, so Lance continued making small talk. "I go to the Garrison, too. But, I can't make up my mind on a major, yet. I've changed it, like, a million times."

"What interests you the most?" Keith questioned. 

Lance brightened at Keith's contribution to the conversation. "Well, Keith, if you must know..." Lance went on about all his many different majors while Keith sipped at his coffee. Lance wasn't sure how much time passed by, of just Lance talking Keith's ear off. Keith was a good listener, evidently, and Lance could feel him slowly letting his guard back down. Lance learned that Keith had just transferred to the Garrison from his old college, though Keith didn't say which college or why he transferred, and Lance didn't push for an answer.

When the bell above the door jingled, Lance heard Keith let out a little gasp as he jumped. He was aware of Keith whipping around to look at who entered, tense.

The person immediately started speaking as soon as they opened the door, the voice belonging to Hunk, Lance's roommate and best friend. "Dude, you're not gonna believe-" Hunk cut himself off, looking at Lance bent over the counter, head resting on his hand as he played with his hair, talking to Keith. Lance realized what it looked like and quickly stood up straighter, composing himself.

"Hey, Hunk. This is Keith," Lance explained, giving Hunk a don't-question-this look that Keith couldn't see. Lance could see Keith give Hunk a curt little wave out of the corner of his vision.

Clearly that introduction did nothing to satisfy Hunk's curiosity, but Lance made no effort to explain any further. "Oh. Hi, Keith," Hunk greeted him awkwardly.

Keith took a quick swig from the cup, downing the rest of its contents, then fished around in his pocket. He placed a crumpled up dollar bill on the counter alongside the cup. "Um, I should get going." He turned and all but dashed to the door. A sudden breeze flew into the room and the same smell of wet pavement wafted in alongside the coffee smell.

"Keith, your change!" Lance called after him.

"Oh, um, keep it as a tip." And then Keith was gone and the door shut slowly behind him.

"What...?" Hunk questioned, taking the spot Keith had occupied in front of the counter. 

Lance sighed and slumped against the counter. "I don't even know, Hunk."

The shop suddenly felt cold. Lance made small talk with Hunk, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. The rest of his shift dragged on, until Nyma showed up (late, though Lance wasn't surprised), and then he and Hunk walked back to their apartment together. The apartment was, conveniently, only a few blocks from the shop, but neither of them had an umbrella so they ended up sprinting through the downpour. Lance starting stripping as soon as he got inside, leaving his clothes in wet puddles all the way to his room, where he threw himself face-first onto the bed.

Even after Keith had left earlier, he had occupied Lance's mind the whole time. And when Lance propped himself up onto his elbows, a single question wormed its way to the front of his thoughts.

Would Keith be coming back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No proofreading, I write, I post, and die like a man.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback very much welcomed!


End file.
